


Subroutine

by Whisper132



Series: The Parabola Continuum [11]
Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-03-13
Updated: 2009-03-13
Packaged: 2017-10-23 14:45:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/251496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whisper132/pseuds/Whisper132
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gin has to think of his future and goes through Osamu withdrawl.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Subroutine

  
Gin hadn't seen Osamu in two weeks and he was getting irritable. Between Osamu having to work late because of the school's sports day and Gin having to go into his father's office for observations, there was no time to sneak off to Osamu's place for homework help (Gin still had occasional trouble and Osamu was a good teacher despite his laziness) or any of the other, more pleasant activities to which Gin had become accustomed.

"You're not focusing," Gin's father said, rapping on Gin's head with his knuckles. "You must learn the company structure before you can go home. We've been going over it for three days."

If Osamu were teaching, Gin would have learned the structure on the first day, guaranteed. Osamu would give him little rewards every time he got something right, a pat on the leg or a quick one on the cheek. Without motivation, Gin's brain failed to activate.

"I'm hungry," he told his father. "Can you test me again after dinner?"

Another rap to the skull. "No. Take a ten minute break and come back ready to work."

Gin left his father's office and wandered toward the break room. As he walked, he dialed Osamu's number.

"Hey."

Gin smiled at the phone when Osamu picked up. "Hey," he said back. "I'm taking a break."

"Is that good or bad?"

"You home?" Gin checked the hall repeatedly to make sure nobody was coming. "Can I come over tonight?"

"The sports day is tomorrow. I'll be free after four." Osamu sniffed.

Gin frowned. "Are you sick?" He checked the hallway again. "Are you eating? I can cook you something tonight."

"You put all that stuff in the freezer. I'm fine." Osamu sniffed again. From the sound of it, he was trying to dislodge something. "Half the team got a bug and I caught it. No big deal."

"It's Friday. I want to come over. I won't bother you." Even though Gin had a key, he'd taken to asking before he came over near the end of his first year in high school. He didn't like showing up to Osamu's apartment and waiting for Osamu to get there – his imagination started to wander. Where was Osamu? Was the car okay? Was he out with friends? Would he get home before Gin fell asleep? Was it okay for Gin to set out the futons when Osamu wasn't there?

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"You don't act like a brat unless something's wrong, so what's wrong?"

"Dad's crazy," Gin grumbled. A panda-eyed salaryman passed through the hall and nodded respectfully in Gin's direction. Gin waited for the hallway to clear again before adding, "and I just feel like coming over."

There was a pause while Osamu coughed and snorted. "Sure, come over. If you get sick, it's not my fault."

"I'll make you some soup when I get there. Take a nap."

"Yeah, yeah. Hurry up and get back to your old man before he gets upset."

Gin knew he had a dumb, satisfied grin on his face when he hung up the phone. Armed with motivation, he returned to his father's office.

  
*****

  
Osamu felt like shit. What little energy he had left after school had been used to snort and cough out buckets of mucus. He was crazy, telling Gin he could come over, but the kid sounded like he really wanted to, so Osamu relented, even though he should have just gone to bed early to gear up for a day of standing in the sun, pretending to care about sports day.

He perked up a little when he heard Gin's key in the door.

"I'm here," Gin said.

Osamu paused, about to say, "welcome home," but not knowing if it was the right thing to say. Gin didn't live there or anything, he just came by a lot. Yeah, he had a toothbrush and an emergency change of clothes, but that was about it. Instead of thinking too hard, Osamu just blew his nose to cover up the awkward moment.

Gin headed straight for the kitchen. "I brought some tissues with lotion for you, and dad gave me some money for groceries if you need something. I told him I'm staying over this weekend." Gin came back from the kitchen in his apron. "I'll clean up while you're at work and restock the fridge."

Some guys would kill for service like this. "Shouldn't you study and stuff?" Osamu had to ask because, as an adult, he was required to.

Gin ignored the comment and went back to the kitchen. Since the kid began second year he'd started to pull a bit more of an attitude, Osamu noticed. His calm, Zen-like ways dropped as soon as he came in the door. It wasn't a bad transformation, really, but sometimes Gin expected a little too much out of an old bachelor like Osamu. Zebras and stripes and stuff.

"You didn't make any of the food I made for you." Gin came back from the kitchen holding a Ziploc bag of frozen stew in one hand and an empty convenience store container in another.

Osamu shrugged. "It was late and I was tired. Reheating takes time."

Gin gave him the look that said he was upset but going to repress because he thought Osamu wouldn't understand why he was upset. Osamu refused to apologize for his laziness. It was part of the package deal.

"Look, I told you, I'm sick and I gotta get up early. I'm going to bed." Times like these Osamu really didn't know what the kid was expecting from him. They'd been…interacting at this level for a year and a half, give or take, and he still didn't understand what the hell Gin wanted from him.

"Sorry to bother you," Gin said, his words back to the precision of his Zen mode. "I'll sleep on the couch so I don't bother you."

"Ah, shit. That's not what I meant. I just…alright, look, I've got snot clogging up my head, I haven't slept in a week, and I'll get my guts ripped out if I call in sick tomorrow, so cut me some slack, okay?" He got up off the couch and stumbled toward Gin. "Can you reheat the stew?" he asked, flopping forward and resting his forehead against Gin's shoulder. "I'm hungry."

"Your forehead's burning up."

"What part of 'I'm sick' didn't you get?" Osamu stepped a little closer. The sound of Gin's slow breathing was nice.

A hand lifted Osamu's chin upward.

"I could be contagious," Osamu warned.

Gin didn't seem too concerned.


End file.
